Concerto for Multiple Voices
by Davinahyde
Summary: All of the deceit and manipulation comes to a head one day! Secrets are revealed! Things are yelled! Plot developments continue apace!


Bridget reached up to stroke Andrew's cheek as his hands slid around her waist. "Oh Andrew," she said. "I do want this so much."

"Oh my darling, so do I."

"There's something you should know before we make love."

"Honestly, given that it's been weeks since I've had sex, I really don't very much care." He pulled her to him, and their bodies practically melted together as they stood there in the living room.

The elevator doors into the penthouse opened behind them.

"WHAT. THE. HELL."

Bridget and Andrew flew apart to see who was yelling at them.

And there she was. In the flesh. Completely alive. Completely pissed. And completely about six months pregnant.

The most important fact of the moment was that Siobhan wasn't really dead. She was was very much alive and my God, she could wear that Alexander McQueen maternity original like she was born in it. Bridget still couldn't figure out how to get into half of the clothes in Siobhan's closet and she was still fashionably skinny..

"What are you doing Frenching my husband?" Siobhan yelled.

Andrew looked from the woman in his arms to the woman at the door and back again. "Siobhan," he stammered. "What's going on?"

"She's not Siobhan, I am!"

"That's what I wanted to tell you." Tears welled up in Bridget's eyes.

"Then you're…you're not my wife," Andrew said to Bridget. "Who are you?"

"My name's Bridget. We're twin sisters."

"Crazy Bridget," Siobhan said. "Poor, unhappy, lonely, unloved Bridget."

"Oh, screw you," Bridget said.

"What are you doing here?" Andrew asked.

"Well, see, I thought Siobhan killed herself and since I'm on the run from both a crazy Mafia killer who wants to keep me from testifying against him in a murder trial and a crazy FBI agent who wears too much guy-liner who wants me to testify, I figured it was safest if I impersonated Siobhan as a while." Bridget shook her head. "Turned out not to be so safe after all."

Andrew blinked a few times. "No, seriously, what are you doing here?"

"Who cares?" Siobhan said. "It's time for her to be going."

"I should have known something was definitely wrong," Andrew said. "Because wow, can you kiss and Siobhan never could."

"Oh please," Siobhan said. "Explain that one."

"Most people use their tongue and you just sort of rubbed your lips against mine and then said something like, 'That's enough of that nonsense.'"

"You!" Bridget said to her sister. "You only invited me here so that whoever is trying to kill you would kill me instead. Do you know how many murder attempts I've dodged in the past few weeks?"

Her sister clucked her tongue. "All of them, apparently. Who knew you were so good at surviving? Well, other than the way you've survived being a call girl, being a drug addict, and being a stripper."

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "You're a stripper?"

Bridget nodded. "I'll give you a private show, later."

"Oooo."

Siobhan smiled meanly. "Oh honey, no, she isn't. I'm coming back here to this apartment —" She poked Andrew's chest. "To this marriage." Poke. "And to this bed." Poke. "And she's not invited."

Andrew grabbed her hand. "I'll be the judge of that, thank you very much." When both women glared at him, he said, "Oh come on, none of your boyfriends so much as hinted at that? Because, trust me, they were thinking it. I mean, seriously, I could have been having sex with twin sisters and this is the first I've heard about it." He raised an eyebrow at Siobhan's pregnant tummy. "Of course, that is sort of a mood killer, but I'm certain I can get past it."

Bridget slugged him in the arm.

The elevator doors slid open. Gemma, waving a gun, forced Henry off of the elevator.

"Honestly, the concierge has got to call up here before letting just anybody in," Andrew said. "Particularly with guns."

"You!" Gemma yelled, pointing the gun at Bridget. "You've been having an affair with Henry!" Then she banged into Henry, who'd stopped stock still in the entrance to the living room. She and Henry looked from one woman to the other.

"What the hell?" Henry said.

"There's two of them," Gemma said.

"This situation is definitely giving me ideas," Henry said.

"I'm so much further in line ahead of you, so back off," Andrew said.

"Could you point that somewhere else?" Bridget said to Gemma.

"Depends," yelled the furious redhead. "Which one of you is Siobhan?"

Siobhan and Bridget pointed at one another. "She is."

"Oh my God," Henry said, staring at Siobhan's stomach, "you really are pregnant."

"Fine, yes, I'm Siobhan, and what a pain in the ass this is. Three more months of having this alien kicking me? Honestly, from now on, I'm only using surrogates."

"You've hardly gained any weight," Gemma said.

"Being pregnant is no excuse for letting yourself go, sheesh."

"So, Siobhan, it's time you came clean. Who's the father of your baby?" Andrew asked.

"Well, duh," Siobhan said. "The good-looking guy."

"Yeah, that doesn't really narrow it down a whole bunch among this crowd," Bridget said. "I mean, God, every guy I've seen in the past few months is completely a man-babe. I'd even totally do my FBI agent, except for the whole wanting me to testify thing and the fact that he's better with mascara than I am."

"Oh fine," Siobhan said. "I can't be totally certain, okay? I have this husband, and I have this lover, and frankly, I lost track of who I was with on which days, so I honestly don't know. I'm almost totally completely thoroughly maybe sure that it's Henry."

"I knew it! I knew it!" Gemma said.

"You didn't know anything," Siobhan purred. "I was sleeping with your husband behind your back and you had no idea!"

"Ha! I was so sure you were having an affair with Henry that I slept with Andrew!" Gemma yelled.

"You did WHAT?" Siobhan and Bridget and Henry yelled. Then everyone turned and stared at Andrew.

"You weren't paying any attention to me," Andrew stammered. "Anyhow, it was just the once."

"Once?" Siobhan asked.

"Once," Bridget said sadly.

"Yes. Didn't want to do that again. It was terrible."

"What?" Gemma yelled.

"Where did you get a gun?" Siobhan said.

"I think everyone here has a gun," Bridget said. "I managed to kill a trained assassin with one and I've never even used a gun before and I'd only been in Manhattan for about five hours tops at that point."

"It's definitely a tough city for the newcomer," Andrew said.

Gemma stamped her foot in frustration. "I have a gun because I'm not really an interior designer! I'm an international spy, working on secret governmental negotiations with space aliens."

The room was dead silent.

"Oh, puh-leeze," Henry said. "That's the most unbelievable thing I've heard so far today."

Siobhan put her hands on her hips. "Listen, I don't care about any of this and any of you, but I'm tired of living hand to mouth in fabulous apartments in Paris."

"Paris?" Andrew said. "I couldn't get you to travel there with me. And now you're living there?"

"Didn't want to ruin the experience by having you along, honey," Siobhan said.

None of the adults screaming at one another saw the elevator doors open yet again and two tall, slickly dressed men who bore an uncanny resemblance to one another walk in.

"Drew! Where the hell were you, man? We waited at the airport for hours!" one man yelled.

Andrew, Bridget, Siobhan, Henry, and Gemma turned to look at the interlopers. Andrew pinched the bridget of his nose and muttered, "Oh God, not _now_."

Everyone else's mouths dropped open.

"What the hell?" Siobhan said.

"Who are they?" Bridget asked, although it was perfectly obvious who they were.

"I'd like to introduce everyone to my brothers Charles and Victor."

Siobhan stared at the newcomers with complete and total shock. "Your twin brothers, you mean."

Bridget gritted her teeth with irritation. "If they're twins with Andrew, that means they're _triplets_."

Siobhan rolled her eyes. "Oh right, Bridge is now all with the big words. Like you have a college education, I don't think so."

Gemma cleared her throat. "I'm calling dibs on the one on the right."

Victor winked at her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yes, I know Nestor Carbonell doesn't really wear guy-liner — he just has amazing and to die for eyelashes. But he was such a good sport joking about during the "Lost" days I had to keep going with it.<strong>


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